Chapter 7
POV: Liam?
I must’ve drank at least two beers already while tending the annual pint tent at the festival.
Yes, every year I’m dragged to the Lisdoovarna festival, not by choice, and thank god, not to participate in it, but to sell beers to thousands of swooning women and piss drunk men.
After a little alcohol you can imagine what usually happens.
The female attendees end up finding whatever man they find halfway attractive to go home with. Though, some play hard to get and wait a little longer than just the first ceilidh dance.
I refused to participate.
Truly, there was nothing I hated more than dancing, especially with some doe-eyed girl, who was daydreaming about settling down with me in a small Irish village, run the bar with me, and give me at least ten children.
For some reason when women thought about traditional Irish families, they thought about 8-10 children, though most of us don’t have near that number anymore. Those were the old days, though I came from a small family, and haven’t even considered kids..especially not with any of these doe-eye tourists.
But from my pint tent, I saw her.
The American Tourist.
Maeve.
Pretty, blonde, American Maeve.
Usually all three of those characteristics would signify one thing to me—-a good one night stand.
But there was something about her that screamed—don’t do it, Liam, don’t take that risk.
There was just something about her that screamed you’re in for more than just one night.
Who knows what that tingling feeling inside my stomach meant, but it meant something I wasn’t sure if I wanted to find out.
I thought about looking away from her and just as I was about to, he came into the picture.
Goofy, school teacher, Declan.
No fucking way.
And suddenly I couldn’t peel my eyes away from him as he approached her.
She waved, awkwardly, acting as if she was shy, but in reality I knew what kind of mouth she had on her—sassy, fiery, and a lot of attitude buried underneath the demeanor she tried to uphold so dearly.
And pretend-shy, American Tourist Maeve was about to get introduced to dull old Declan.
Don’t get me wrong, Declan was a nice guy, but he was just that. A nice guy.
And let’s be honest, women, especially women like Maeve, weren’t interested in nice guys, who did as they were told, and let the woman lead.
Maeve had fire in her, from our short but memorable interaction I could tell just that. She wasn’t looking for a do-as-you’re-told schoolteacher who probably thought grading tests was ‘fun’. I was surprised he even made it out to the ceilidh dancing event. It wasn’t like him.
And Maeve liked adventure, that’s why she ended up coming here after all.
Here comes the rejection, I thought as I watched him approach her and extend his hand out.
But no rejection came.
Instead, it was the most intriguing thing I saw since our conversation at the bar.
She shook his head, smiled, a genuine smile, tucked a strand of glossy blonde hair behind her ear, then led him towards the dance floor.
Yes, I said she led him towards the dance floor, not the other way around.
Not a good look for you, Declan boy, letting a lady lead you to dance. It screams do-as-you’re-told.
I scoffed, obviously irritated, and bothered by it somehow at the same time.
Why was I irritated? Why was I bothered? Why did I care?
So, I did what any rational man who didn’t care did, instead of pouring pints, I let my employees do all the work as my eyes stayed glued to the two dancing in the center of the room to the upbeat Irish tune.
Was it working on her? Was she falling for Declan’s schoolboy-like charm?
Nah, I told myself. She can’t be falling for his act.
But Maeve just kept smiling. And I couldn’t tell if she was faking it or if she was actually enjoying dancing with Declan.
And that bothered me even more. It bothered me that she smiled when she danced with him. It bothered me that she went willingly to dance with him. It bothered me that she hadn’t even noticed me staring at her.
I knew why. And I fucking hated it.
I was into her.
Definitely physically. Not certain about romantically just yet. But there was something there—something more than just a one night fuck thing. Or maybe it was just that.
I shook my head, both confused and irritated at the same time.
I needed to get back to work and stop ogling some girl because I hadn’t got laid in awhile.
That’s it. That must be it. Just that. I hadn’t got laid in awhile. I was thinking with the wrong head.
Two hours had to have gone by and Declan came up to the tent to buy pints at least three times.
Yes, I counted. I couldn’t help it.
He was noticeable, and she was noticeably lingering across the room. A few times our gazes even connected, though she looked away first, and one time I did. Eventually, she was out of sight and the event was just about winding down, that meant tent clean-up and everyone would be hauling their asses over to the pub, where I was fully staffed tonight luckily.
I lost sight of her during the cleanup process.
Then I heard it. The rain.
The weather was unpredictable here in Ireland. It rained whenever it felt like it, and it rained hard.
It wasn’t just tiny droplets or a light mist—it was a massive downpour.
Shit.
My guys already loaded up a few hand carts and headed back to the bar, and though we weren’t far away, just a few blocks on foot, I knew I didn’t want to get caught in a rainstorm, especially not in jeans.
The festival tent was closing down, so I decided to make a run for the nearby check-in tent in the center of town, about 100 feet away, surrounded by streetlamps.
As I made a run for it, so did another figure in the distance.
And when we both made it to the tent, my jaw dropped when I saw who it was.
Maeve.
The girl I’d been ogling for the last few hours. The source of all my internal dilemmas.
“You,” she said, with a half smile as she let out a heavy breath and tried to make an attempt to pad off the rain from her already soaked jeans. It was of no use.
“You,” I mocked with a smirk.
I was enjoying this.
Her soaked—not like that—even though I’ve thought about it once or twice, but actually rain soaked.
“Had fun tonight?” I couldn’t help but ask with a permanent smirk on my face.
She cocked an eyebrow. “Were you watching me?”
I shrugged, playing it off. “It’s easy to spot the tourists.” Calm and cool. “I saw you were with Declan.”
“Oh, did you?” she laughed, enjoying this.
“Declan’s a great guy,” I replied, hoping she’d take the bait.
She gave me a look. The one I was waiting for.
“I’m glad you think so.”
“You don’t sound certain.”
God, I loved this.
She let out a sigh. “My grandma thinks so.”
“Your grandma? Well then, grandma knows best,” I let out a small laugh.
“Sometimes, but not with men. Definitely not with men.”
“Declan’s not the one? The Irish lover you came here to search for?” I teased.
“You know damn well I’m not here for that. I’m here for a book,” she replied, almost rolling her eyes.
That made my jaw tick. Her eyes rolling. The way she looked at me after she spoke.
“You’re staring,” she said.
I shook my head. “You’re the only person under the canopy with me, it’d be hard not to.”
“Lovely meeting you here,” she scoffed, but I knew she was enjoying the banter just as much as I was.
Fire and gasoline.
“So, what’s appealing about Declan?” I prodded. “Is he a good dancer? Does he tell good jokes? What? I’ve always wondered.”
Her gaze narrowed on me. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Try to flirt with me,” she replied.
Got me there.
“Oh? You think this is flirting?” I asked, inching closer towards her, egging her on. “If I was flirting then it wouldn’t be some basic words.”
Her breath hitched. “It wouldn’t?” But she didn’t move.
“No.” And now I knew I was flirting.
This close. Not backing away an inch.
I wanted to do it. I wanted to kiss her. And bad.
Don’t do it, Liam, I told myself.
But she did it for me.
Yes, Maeve, the sassy American tourist leaned up and kissed me.
And suddenly my hands were in her hair, yanking her towards me, then her hands were around my neck, and neither of us could breathe for a minute.
Until she stopped kissing me and looked up at me with the blankest stare I’ve ever seen.
“I’ve got to go,” she replied, removing her sweatshirt and hanging it over her head to cover herself from the rain then sprinted off towards the sidewalk then around a corner and out of my distance before she could hear the words out of my mouth.
She had just run away from me.
Shock was the only word that came to mind.
I thought about running after her but I knew what that would turn into.
Sex.
Or maybe it would just make me look like some weird stalker.
I wasn’t interested in either.
Well, one of those was a lie.